Livin' la Vida Loca
by A. Zap
Summary: Being with Rick Sanchez has always been a whirlwind of crazy. That man is trouble and Stan has always known it. And some things simply do not change from their first meeting to the crazy situations they got in to the break-up to whatever the heck it was that they became to now. Still, Stan wouldn't have things any other way. Also on my Tumblr for the Stanchez Micro-Bang.


**Disclaimer: I own neither Gravity Falls or Rick and Morty. I just think these gross old men are cute together.**

 **Warnings:** Alcohol mention, drug mention, smoking mention, implied sex but no actual descriptions, swearing, prostitution, implied suicidal thoughts, implied depression

* * *

Livin' la Vida Loca

It was hard to describe Rick Sanchez. Well, there were some choice descriptions that came to mind, but they weren't all that he was.

Rick Sanchez was crazy. Whether sober, drunk, or high, he was a whirlwind of energy and insanity. When he was around, you knew things were about to go terribly wrong and terribly right all at the same time. He was a phenomenon, he was insane, he was…

Trouble.

That was the word Stan had been searching for.

Trouble with a capital T.

The craziest part was how Rick managed to drag everyone around him into that insane trouble he brought with him like a cold front brings rain. It was an inevitability.

Of course, he had been like that ever since the first time Stan had met him.

* * *

Stan sighed, fingers itching for a cigarette. No one was biting tonight, so he figured he might as well smoke.

The downside, of course, was that he had a limited number of cigarettes and no more money to buy more. Or pay for more gas to fill the Stanmobile's tank. Or pay off those goons that had been sniffing around for the past week.

Crap, he needed money.

"H-hey, t-t-tough guy. Wanna – wanna lend a hand?"

Stan turned in the direction of the voice. Its owner was certainly unusual, from the striking blue hair and unibrow to the piercings and punk clothes. He was struggling to move a speaker through a doorway in the alley to the club next door.

Stan glanced around before shrugging. "Sure." He could easily help with this and then pick someone up.

He walked over to the stranger and lifted the other end of the speaker, walking backwards at the given directions before walking up the stairs and setting the speaker on the stage.

"Ugh," the guy grumbled, "this would be soooooo much easier if Bird Person and Squanchy could b-be bothered to f-f-f-fucking show up on time, after dropping off the van." He stretched as the two walked back to his van. Stan glanced inside and saw even more equipment.

If he helped haul all of that, he wouldn't be able to get someone in the narrow window he had.

"Well, you're welcome, but I gotta get going." Stan sent a quick grin and started to walk away, already planning on moving locations since it was quiet here.

"You haven't picked anyone up yet, huh?" He halted at the sound of the other's voice yet again. He could hear the smirk in it. "D-don't see why though, you're pr-pr-pretty nice to look at."

Stan turned back. The guy had brought out a joint, though it smelled like nothing he recognized, and lit it, smoke curling up his face. "I don't know what you're talking about." The punk didn't look like a cop, but you never knew.

The smirk widened. "Listen, I-I'll cut you a deal." He said, flicking some ash off his sleeve. "Help me lug this s-s-s-stuff in and set up, and I'll pay you d-double what you usually make in a night and give you an all-exclusive backstage pass to The Flesh Curtains."

Stan narrowed his eyes. That was a good deal, almost too good. Still, it was the best offer he had gotten that evening and he didn't smell a lie in his words. "Money up front." He said flatly.

The stranger chuckled. "Sounds like a man after my own heart." He flicked away the little that was left of his joint. "Rick Sanchez." He held out his hand.

Stan hesitated. "Stan," he said, giving his actual name for the first time in a long time.

"No g-giving out your l-last name. Even better." Rick cackled and gestured to the equipment with one hand while pulling out a wad of bills with the other. "I think this is the start of a b-beautiful relationship."

Some would say that making a deal with Rick Sanchez is like making a deal with the devil. Others would say that making a deal with Rick was foolish because he couldn't be expected to keep it, throwing it away the moment he got bored.

Stan would say that his deal with Rick was the second best deal of his life.

* * *

"So why are y-y-y-you k-keeping this hunk of j-junk?"

Stan looked up at the sound of Rick's voice, before he turned back to the engine of his baby. "She's not junk. This baby's the most reliable thing in my life."

He ignored Rick's snort as he continued his regular maintenance that was probably the only reason why the Stanmobile was still running.

At that point, Stan and Rick had been riding together in the Stanmobile for a couple months. Every other week or so, they'd meet up with Rick's bandmates for a concert – it'd taken a while for Stan to get used to the fact that one of them was a walking, talking cat and the wings were for real on the other – but for the most part they worked together on other ventures.

For some reason, the two of them had just clicked, and Stan didn't mind the other's company. It had been a while since he'd actually had someone stay around regularly that he could kind of trust. It was pretty nice, and he wasn't going to ruin it by bringing up that Rick should just forget about him and find someone who was worth his time.

Stan ignored the jab of pain and continued working on the Stanmobile. It wasn't until he felt a sudden presence at his elbow that he jerked in surprise, not expecting Rick to be right next to him. The other man's eyes were lit up and, for once, not hazy with drugs or booze.

"Move o-over." Rick smirked, cracking his fingers. "Wh-when I'm done, this thing w-w-will run for a hundred years!"

Stan hesitated for only a moment – this really was the most reliable and constant thing in his life after all – but there was something, some gleam in Rick's eyes that was both familiar and insane.

And so Stan moved over and let Rick get to work on his car, giving him free reign but making sure to watch every move so he could still make the Stanmobile run even if Rick wasn't there.

Some might call him crazy, but Stan rapidly learned to appreciate how his car was suddenly able to outrun the cops even better than before.

* * *

Stan never could quite remember what lead up to him and Rick going to bed together for the first time. He did remember that he had gotten spectacularly drunk that night. Rick had never found out, but it had been his birthday.

"Y-your dad named you and your twin b-br-brother both Stan! Wh-what an asshat!" Rick said as he chugged down his drink.

"Ma made it so he was Stanford and I was Stanley at least." Stan mumbled into his drink, throwing it back to finish it in one go.

"Wha's he like?"

"Ford?" At the nod from his companion, Stan positively lit up. "Man, you two would probably get along! He's a genius!"

By this time, Stan had seen plenty of evidence that Rick was just as smart as Ford was. He was always fiddling with something and he'd go off explaining what he was doing and how it was going to be amazing.

Personally, Stan found it amazing that Rick was willing to give him the time of day, much less travel with him. Sure, they had the same criminal streak, though Rick tended to be just a bit more ruthless than him, but Rick was obviously going to go off to better things.

Just like Ford probably was, if Stan didn't completely ruin everything.

Rick allowed him to babble on about his brother. He wasn't quite sure what all he said, but eventually it turned to what had separated them.

To be fair, Stan had managed to drink a lot in the interim.

"'s my fault." He pouted, putting his head on his arms. "It was an accident, but still… I ruined everything."

"How d-did you 'ruin' anything?" Rick slammed his drink on the bar. Stan didn't catch how he was already annoyed, eyes narrowed at his talk of Ford.

"I destroyed his project, made him lose his chance at greatness. He's finishin' up at a place called _Backupsmore_ for Moses's sake." Stan thumped his head on the bar. "Ugh, why'm I always so stupid?!"

"S-s-sounds like y-your brother's the stupid-upid one." Rick muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Wha? No way!" Stan stood up, swaying a bit on his feet. "'m the screw-up, and everything's my…"

"It's not y-y-your fault." Rick said, tossing some money at the bartender to pay their tab. "C'mon." He tugged at Stan's arm, pulling him along.

It didn't take them very long to reach the place where they were staying. "How's it not my fault?" Stan had been pondering Rick's words the entire way back.

"Look," Rick slammed the door behind him, "so you m-made a mistake. People do that. I think your br-br-brother made one too."

"Ford doesn't make mistakes." Stan said. He stumbled against the wall on his way to his bed.

"But didn't his complete lack of support h-hurt _you_?" Rick crossed his arms.

"So what? _I_ – "

"D-do you think you deserved that?" It seemed like Rick suddenly teleported from the other side of the room to stand in front of him. "B-b-because that's some real – some real bullshit right there!"

"But I – "

That time, Rick cut him off with a kiss. Stan didn't know how the other man had known that would work – Rick didn't seem like the type to care, but you never knew who could be watching for this stuff – and at that moment, Stan didn't care.

After that, it was a rush of undressing and getting on the bed. Rick only stopped once as he loomed over. "If y-you don't want this, you can say no."

Stan did want it.

It was as Stan was falling asleep afterwards that he heard Rick speak again. "Tú n-no mereces esta m-mierda." He snorted. "Inferno, No me mereces. Tú mereces lo m-mejor." He sighed. "Jeez, Lee."

Rick might have said more, but Stan didn't hear it. It's not like he really understood what Rick said in the first place. He only remembered the basics of Spanish from high school.

But after that night, Rick always called him Lee.

Stan didn't know why, but it was one of the things that made Rick unique.

* * *

Stan never knew how to define his relationship with Rick. It changed and flowed so much over the years that they were never quite one thing or the other.

Well, neither one of them were much for labels anyway.

And at the very least, they were always friends.

* * *

There were some things about Rick that he simple couldn't understand. In some ways, Stan hoped he never understood all of his friend's idiosyncrasies.

All they had done was stop for gas as they drove through the Midwest. Stan saw no problem with it.

Apparently, Rick did.

"W-w-we've g-got to go, Lee!" Rick shouted, slamming his hand on the hood of the car.

Stan looked up to see his friend's eyes darting around nervously. He narrowed his eyes at him. He hadn't seen his friend taking anything, but that really didn't mean much when it came to Rick. For all he knew, Squanchy had given him something that didn't need to be eaten, snuffed, injected, or smoked.

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked, glancing at the gas pump and willing it to move faster. After all, Rick could have noticed an actual threat.

"Corn!" Rick was waving his arms to try to make his point, but that really was not making it clearer.

"What about the corn?" Stan glanced around at the corn fields that seemed to press around them from all sides. He had heard of aliens making crop circles in corn, but for all he knew there were actual aliens or something there. Rick always acted like aliens were a sure thing.

"I-i-i-it's corn, L-lee! It's all corn!" Rick was still staring at the fields like something was going to emerge and whack them both. "W-w-we've gotta – gotta get away!"

Stan looked at him, incredulous. "We're in Nebraska, Rick." This place was known as the Corn Husker State. They weren't getting away from corn anytime soon, since they were also in the middle of the Corn Belt.

"B-but the c-c-corn, Lee!" Rick was adamant.

Stan sighed. Luckily, at that moment, the pump clicked, indicating the tank was full. "All right; get in." He removed the nozzle and placed it back in its cradle as Rick let out a whoop.

The two of them slipped into the car and Stan punched it right as the clerk came out of the shop. "Hey! You can't – "

They did.

Rick didn't relax until they had come into the glass and steel confines of the nearest city. Stan didn't have the heart to tell him that they'd still have to pass corn when they finally left.

It was worth the trouble just to see Rick's smile.

* * *

Unfortunately, Rick managed to get them into more actual trouble than Stan did.

"Okay, just to be clear. I blame you for this." Stan said, as he tried to get into a better position.

"How's this _m-m-m-my_ fault?" Rick groused.

"You're the one who just had to push our luck, didn't you?" Stan rolled his eyes. "And now we're in a freaking dog cage going who knows where?!"

"J-j-jeez, n-no need to over-overreact." Rick kicked out at the door, but it didn't work. "Th-think you c-c-c-could kick it open, Lee?"

"Maybe I could if I was at the right angle and you weren't all over my back!" Stan retorted. "Ugh, we're going to die in a cage."

"W-w-we're not going to die in a c-c-c-cage, Lee." Rick was the one rolling his eyes now.

"Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?"

"Fine! I-I-I'll take that bet!" Rick started to shift. "If either of us d-dies in a cage, you win. If n-neither of us does, I win."

"That's one bet I'd like to lose." Stan muttered.

"Then move over, L-lee, so we can get out of here."

Stan rolled his eyes, but did as he asked. Soon their positions were shifted so Stan was on his back and Rick was straddling his hips.

A smirk crossed Rick's face. "Hey…"

"Now's not the time, Rick." Stan said firmly. He was finally at a decent angle and it only took a few kicks to break the lock.

As they scrambled out, Rick threw him a sultry look. "How about now?"

Stan countered with an unimpressed look. "How about after we hijack this van and get back to the Stanmobile?"

"Will do!" And with that, Rick wasted no time in sneaking to the front and knocking out the driver.

Stan sighed. _Just another day_ , he thought as he braced himself against the sides of the out of control vehicle.

* * *

One thing that Stan was surprised to find that they had in common was stargazing.

Back as little kids, he and Ford would do it all the time. Ford would be fascinated and chatter on about how stars and other "celestial bodies," as he put it, worked. He would give full-on lectures as to how the stars were used in navigating, and he made Stan learn how to navigate using them too. When they thought they were going to sail away someday, it had seemed like a necessity.

So Stan did know how to use the stars to navigate, and he could name all of the constellations. But more than for navigating, Stan loved the stories that went with the stars and constellations, the stories whispered in the shadows of the night of how to see the warnings and to learn from the past. He had always loved a good story; it's why he had always been a pretty decent liar.

Rick was different. He stared at the stars with a purpose, but at the same time, he looked beyond them.

They spent some nights, when they couldn't actually find a place, just sitting on the hood of the Stanmobile, gazing up into the stars. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't.

It was peaceful for once.

"I'm g-gonna go there s-someday." Rick would say, his expression determined and more focused than usual. "G-g-gonna leave this sh-shitty planet behind and go out th-there."

Stan would give him an indulgent smile. He didn't doubt Rick for a second, though he got the feeling the other man wouldn't be using NASA to get out.

He also had the feeling that he wouldn't be with Rick when he eventually left.

It was during one of these short intermissions of their otherwise chaotic lives that Stan realized that he had fallen harder than a shooting star.

* * *

Stan didn't know what exactly to expect. After things had gone south in Columbia, he couldn't really blame Rick for bailing on him. It had taken him eight months to escape prison and four more to deal with Jorge and Rico. He probably hadn't chosen well when it came to picking allies to escape from jail, but he hadn't had many choices.

Still, he hadn't expected to find Rick in a suburban neighborhood in Michigan of all places.

Stan cast a look around. Just being here made him nervous. He clearly didn't belong in a place like this. The sooner he got out of here, the better.

He quickly rang the doorbell.

"I-I-I'm coming." Stan perked up at the sound of that familiar voice. The door opened to reveal Rick blinking at him in surprise. "Lee?"

"Rick! What's up?" Stan grinned at him. Then, it registered how weirdly Rick was dressed. He actually looked semi-respectable.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat sheepish, and he seemed to be avoiding Stan's gaze. "Well…" The next two words explained everything.

Stan hadn't expected this either. "You… You got married?" All he could do was stare at his… friend. Because that's all they could be now. He didn't know how he felt about this. His insides were tangled up in a giant, twisted knot, and otherwise, he was kind of numb.

"Y-y-y-yeah." Rick wouldn't look Stan in the eye. "W-w-wasn't really my idea, b-b-but I got a g-girl kn-knocked up and her dad's shotgun was reeeeeeaaaaaal convincin'."

"I see." Now Stan was the one who couldn't look the other in the eye.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Suddenly, Rick snapped his fingers. "Oh!" He reached somewhere behind him. "I-I-I did take care of your baby for you!" He led Stan over to the garage, opening it with a clap of his hands.

And there sat the Stanmobile, looking even better than the last time he had seen her.

"I-I made some adjust-adjustments." Rick said as he popped the hood. Stan glanced over it, taking in the obvious traces of the genius's work. Luckily, they were such that Stan would still be able to fix her up when she eventually broke down again.

"Thanks, Rick." Stan managed to muster up a grimace of a smile.

"'s the l-l-least I could do." Rick replied. He seemed to have a sort of smile as well as he handed over the keys.

"Yeah." Stan looked away from him and closed up his car's hood. He wasn't exactly sure what to do now. He'd thought they would meet up again and just move on like they always do, but…

This was definitely the most awkward break-up he'd ever been in. And he'd gotten married for less than 48 hours before.

"So, um," well, at least it wasn't just weird for him, Rick looked like he wanted to get swallowed up by one of the black holes he studied, "if y-y-you ever need h-help you can call m-me."

"Sure." They both knew that probably wasn't going to happen. That's how the life went. Still, Stan should be happy for Rick. He'd gotten out and was moving on.

He couldn't let his own feelings, whatever they were, mess up the life of another person he cared for.

"See ya, Rick." Stan held out his hand.

"S-s-s-see ya, Lee." Rick cracked a smile as he shook his hand.

As Stan got into his car, he heard Rick mutter, "L-lo siento, Lee," and he wondered if he should tell Rick that he now fully understood Spanish.

 _Oh, well, it's not like I'm going to see Rick again._ He thought as he turned the key in the ignition.

It was only as he drove away that he finally identified what he was feeling. He'd experienced it only once before. This mess of emotions was the same as when Ford turned his back on him.

He supposed he should have gotten used to the people he loved moving on and leaving him behind.

* * *

After he actually got some food in him and could think a bit clearer, the obvious hit him like a bullet. Really, it should have been his first thought when the stupid thing had been broken, but he'd been running on pure adrenaline and desperation.

After all, who did he know that was at Ford's level of genius?

So somehow he found himself calling Rick up.

"You n-n-need h-help with something?" Rick asked when he finally realized who it was. Given that it had been several years, it wasn't surprising that he hadn't been expecting a call.

"Uh, it's not illegal, if that's what you're worried about." Stan nervously twisted the phone cord around his finger. He chastised himself, reminding himself that Rick had a family and a life now. He didn't want to mess with that, but…

This was for Ford.

"Wh-what? No, I wasn't worri-worried 'bout that at all." Stan could almost imagine Rick waving his words away. "J-just kinda th-thought I wouldn't hear from you again."

"Well, I, uh, just really need someone as smart as you." Stan explained.

There was a short pause before he heard a sigh come down the line. "Where are you, Lee?"

It took a couple days for the scientist to arrive. Luckily, he came by after Stan had managed to swindle some more of the town's residents. Seriously, this tour thing was starting to look really profitable. Stan could actually see himself doing this, despite the way he kind of felt like crap at the moment.

Rick looked like an actual member of society when he emerged from his car. It was pretty odd for Stan, who still thought of him as that punk he'd met back in the day.

Rick looked good though.

"Wha-what's up?" He asked. "Wouldn't have imagined you in some p-podunk town like this, Lee."

"Well, it's not like it was my choice." Stan ushered him inside. Remembering how he hated Ford's rushed reception, he actually directed Rick to the kitchen. "Want anything to drink or eat? You got here pretty quick."

"I've been experimenting with some things." Rick looked around the shack. "This doesn't really seem like your style." He said as he accepted the drink. Stan had found a surprising amount of alcohol in the house. He off-handedly wondered what Ford had been doing with it all, but at the very least he was glad that Rick's favorite had been among it.

"It's not." Stan admitted to Rick. "Look," he gripped the table as a wave of dizziness passed over him, but he brushed it off like he had been doing for the past several days, "I got a postcard from Ford asking for me to come right away. This is his place."

He could practically feel Rick's stare. "L-let me get this straight." Stan turned to see Rick pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y-y-your dick of a brother contacts you f-for the first time in over t-ten years, and you come running?" The incredulous tone in his voice almost hurt.

"It's Ford." Stan said in way of explanation. He could feel a headache growing already.

"R-r-riiiiight." Rick rolled his eyes. Stan resisted the urge to point out his hypocrisy considering the scientist had come running when he had asked, which he was actually kind of grateful for. "So wh-where is the prick?" Rick said with another glance around, gulping down the drink.

"That's the problem." Stan said. "Let me show you something."

Rick raised his eyebrow at the elevator and the machinery that lead the way down. He didn't lower it until he finally saw the portal.

"So this was apparently something Ford had made. We were fighting, because of…" Stan nervously brushed his hair back. He didn't need to get into that. "Anyway, this thing turned on and Ford fell through." He turned to Rick. "Do you think you could help me get it back on so I can get him back?"

"This thing actually worked?" Rick examined the machine with a critical eye. "S-seriously, it's like this heap of junk was m-m-made to be unstable."

"You know this technology?" Stan felt a spark of hope grow in him. "I've tried working on it, but well, you know me." He chuckled, slightly uncomfortable.

"I've been working on s-s-something similar, but a loooot more portable and a looooot more stable." Rick banged a hand against the main triangle thing.

"So you can fix this?"

"No."

Stan's heart stopped for a moment. "What?" He asked, not wanting to believe his ears.

"It's a r-really, really bad idea, Lee. A-a-and this is coming from me." Rick turned to look at him. "Ther-there's literally no way I can s-s-see to fix this thing and make it a-actually su-sustainable."

"But I don't need it open long! Just long enough to get Ford back!" Stan protested.

"It could still t-tear a hole in the dimensions. Who knows wh-what'd come sliding out?" Rick gave a disgusted grunt.

"No, I have to…" Stan's breathing became slightly erratic. If Rick wouldn't help him, how was he ever going to pull this off? "It's my brother."

Something about his tone must have caught his attention, because Rick blinked and leaned towards him. "Are you o-okay? You l-look like shit."

"I'm fine." Stan insisted, but even as he was saying that black spots were appearing in his vision.

"Whoa!" Luckily, Rick caught him as he began to collapse. "H-h-holy shit, Lee." His hand brushed against Stan's forehead. "Y-you're fucking burning up."

At that point, Stan lost a bit of time. When he became aware of his surroundings, he was on the couch in Ford's room and Rick was taking off his clothes.

"What sort of m-m-moron doesn't even have a fu-fucking bed in his own house?" Rick was muttering to himself as he finally tugged off Stan's jacket and threw it aside. Then he got to work on Stan's shirt.

"You're married." Stan said in a sleepy slur. He frowned at how bad his voice sounded.

"N-n-n-not doing this for that, Lee." Rick snorted. "You're burning up, though… thi-this part seems to be 'specially bad." His hand touched Stan's now bad shoulder, making Stan hiss. Rick blinked.

In a flurry, Stan's shirt was ripped off and the makeshift bandages from where Stan had tried to treat his own injury were peeled back. There was a moment of silence before Stan felt a crushing grip on his arm.

"Did he do this?" Rick hissed.

"Rick…" Stan winced as the grip slowly tightened. He just knew he was gonna have a bruise there tomorrow.

"I asked, d-d-did that bastard do this?!" Rick's voice lowered into a growl. "This is a fucking b-brand, Lee! Tell me did that m-m-motherfu-"

"It was an accident." Stan said through gritted teeth.

"Well, it's fucking in-infected!" Rick stood up and stomped off. Stan could hear him as he rummaged for medical supplies. "F-f-fucking moron. Can't even take care of himself, but he just haaaaaaaas to save his brother that c-can't even build a proper portal."

"I can hear you." Stan replied.

"C-c-color me surprised given the fact that you'r-you're hot enough for your brain t-t-to melt from your ears." Rick returned with a slam of the door behind him. He knelt down, spilling his finds next to him, and examined the wound a bit closer.

Stan squinted at him. He may not have been a science whiz, but he knew that it would take a lot more for his brain to melt.

"Sh-shut up-p." Rick snapped as he began to roughly treat the injury. "Y-y-you know what I mean."

Both fell silent as Rick continued his administrations. Stan's mind couldn't help but go back to a different time, in many different places, where the two of them would fix each other up. Sometimes it'd be due to a job or a bar fight or just because they'd done something stupid, but they had always taken the time to make sure that everything had been treated. After all, neither of them had ever wanted to waste money on actual medical help.

It was soothing to Stan and he felt himself beginning to nod off.

As he drifted off, he felt a surprisingly gentle hand run through his hair.

"Go to sleep, Lee." He heard Rick say. "Jeez, a este p-paso, vas a m-m-matarte. Y-y odiaría que."

When Stan woke up, Rick was gone as suddenly as he had come, but he had left strict instructions as to how to take care of his infection.

Stan followed them to the letter.

* * *

It was after a few months working on the Portal that Stan realized this was going to take a long time. However, he didn't know how long he could stay as "Stanford Pines" especially as "Stanley Pines" still very much existed and many people were still after him. This lead to the very logical conclusion:

Stanley Pines would have to die.

It was all too easy to buy a clunker and set up a fatal accident, though the police still questioned it a bit. With one fiery swoosh, Stanley Pines was gone and Stan was all set to continue living. He didn't even have to waste money on a funeral because after contacting his parents as "Stanford," it was very clear that there was no reason to.

No need to have a funeral when the supposedly deceased was the only one who'd show up.

He convinced himself it was better that way. After all, he wouldn't want to blow his cover.

So, needless to say, Stan was not prepared to open up his door one summer's evening in July and find Rick Sanchez there. He was also not prepared for the fury that lit up the scientist's eyes at the sight of him and the punch that followed.

"Y-y-y-you complete and utter moron!" Rick yelled as he punched him in the face, knocking them both over into a heap. "Son of a b-b-b-bitch!" He threw another punch at Stan, but he was ready this time. Stan caught the fist inches away from his face.

"What the hell, Rick?!" He snapped. "What's the matter with you?"

"Wha-what's the m-matter with me?!" Rick reeled back, indignant. "What the hell's the m-m-matter with you, Lee?!" With that, Rick took something from his back pocket and shoved it in Stan's face.

Stan blinked a bit at the sudden intrusion and it took him a few moments to fully see what was in front of him. "Oh," was all he could say as he read the headline of "Stan Pines Dead."

"Oh? F-fucking 'oh?'" Rick said, anger still lining his body. "Th-that's all you can say?"

"Well, what do you _want_ me to say?" Stan tipped his head back to thump it on the floor.

"How about a fucking explanation?" Rick finally slid off Stan and went to the side, arms crossed.

Stan sat up. "Well… I just got a lot of people on my back. Probably best for everyone if I'm gone, right?"

"Reeeeeaaaally?" Rick narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you still working on that portal?"

Stan carefully did not look towards the vending machine which now concealed the entrance to the basement. "Ha, you know me. Too dumb to figure out that sciency geek stuff you and Sixer like. There's no way I'd ever get it working!"

Except he would. He had to. But Rick wouldn't see it that way.

Rick stared at him for a few moments. He was still skeptical, Stan could tell, but luckily, he dropped the topic. The scientist stood up and brushed himself off, taking a decent look around for the first time. "And you decided to t-take advantage of your missing twin to assume his identity. P-pretty slick."

 _Borrowing. Just until he gets back._ Stan corrected him in his head.

"Uh, yeah," is what he said aloud though. He picked himself off the ground and followed suit. "Still surprised you rushed over here over a headline like this though." Stan tried to crack a joke, because he couldn't believe that anyone would come just for that. "After all, you know me."

"Yes, I do kn-know you." Rick wouldn't face him, and it seemed like he was doing it on purpose. He tended to do that when things got into the territory of feelings. "So that's – that's why I came over r-right away."

"But you know I wouldn't – " Stan tried to smooth it over, knowing where this was going, but Rick cut him off.

"Really?" He threw him a very serious, no-nonsense look. It was nothing like Rick's usual expression. "I see a-a-an article about how St-Stan Pines died in a very suspicious acci-accident and I shouldn't come over. Especially when I know you blame your-yourself over y-your dumbass of a br-brother getting su-sucked into his st-st-stupid portal."

Okay, that did look bad. Especially since Rick knew his history with this sort of thing. "But – "

" _Especially_ ," Rick emphasized, "when the art-article says the c-c-car was a Ford."

Stan's mind blanked. _Maybe I should have paid more attention to that._ He thought.

"I hadn't realized that." He weakly said.

Rick's look of disbelief told him what the other thought of that. Silence fell between them. Rick poked at one of Ford's contraptions and Stan rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know what to do about this.

"I honestly didn't think anyone would check." Stan said, still leaving quite a bit unsaid.

Luckily, Rick heard it in his tone anyway. He snorted. "Well, th-think again."

Things got awkward again. Stan absently wondered if he should offer him a drink or something.

However, Rick was the one who spoke first this time. "This is so-some sort of t-t-tourist trap, right?" Stan nodded, and he continued. "M-maybe I should br-bring Beth sometime. She'd probab-bably like this shit."

Stan cracked a grin. "Any time you want."

Rick nodded in approval. "Shou-should probably be getting back." He said, looking in distaste at the door.

"Ah, okay." Stan said, a bit surprised that Rick was leaving as suddenly as he came. He walked him to the door, where they said their goodbyes.

Rick's voice stopped him as he walked back in though. "A-a-and, Lee?" He turned back to see Rick throwing him the most serious look he'd ever seen on his face. "I-If I ever wake up a-a-and find a headline like that a-a-again, I-I'll kill you myself."

A real smile crossed Stan's face. "What if I'm actually dead?" He asked, his tone teasing and light.

A matching grin was on Rick's face. "I-I'll bring you back just to k-k-kill you."

Stan couldn't help but laugh. "See ya, Rick." He sent him off with a wave, which Rick returned.

As he shut the door, he slid down it until he was on the floor. Because those weren't tears in his eyes, oh no, he'd just gotten some dust in them is all.

But it was nice to know that if he had had that funeral, at least one other person would have shown up.

* * *

Stan was somewhat surprised when Rick actually took him up on his offer. Of course, he didn't bother calling before Stan opened his door to see the man holding his daughter up to introduce her.

Beth was a sweet kid, though she seemed to be a bit wary of her "Uncle Stan" at first. Stan could respect that given this was Rick's kid. However, she did brighten up the place a bit when she was there. She even turned out to be fairly good with arts and crafts, helping Stan make a couple attractions for the museum.

It became a bit of a thing with them. Rick and Beth would show up, stay a few days, and then Stan wouldn't see them for several months.

It was… nice.

"So, wh-what do you think?" Rick asked as he cracked open a beer. It wasn't his first one. Apparently the missus didn't really approve of alcohol, so he took advantage of his trips to get his fill.

"About what?" Stan asked, looking away from the window showing Beth playing in the yard. He did take an offered beer though.

"Beth." He nodded towards her.

"She's a great kid. You're lucky to have her." Stan honestly said.

Kids had been something Stan had used to think about. But that had been something he had dropped the night his dad kicked him out. You couldn't have kids if you couldn't take care of them, and now he was too wrapped up with trying to get Ford back to focus on anything else.

"Heh. Yeah." A smile crossed Rick's face for a second before he quickly covered it up. Stan hid a smirk. Rick was always trying to cover up how he cared for people, but it was all too obvious to Stan. He looked away towards the window thoughtfully. "Y-y-you know, s-sometimes I think – "

Whatever he was going to say was lost forever, because Stan had followed his gaze out the window and the sight made him lurch upright and towards the window.

"Hey!" Stan leaned out the window and pointed an accusing fingers at the gnomes that had snuck up to talk to Beth. "Get away from her, you puny little garden decorations!"

"Oh, snap!" One of them said as they flinched away from Stan. They had been on the receiving end of his punches and kicks many a time already. "Let's grab her and go." With a nod of agreement, the gnomes picked up Beth and started to spirit her away.

"Wh-what the hell?!" Rick yelled as he fully took in the scene.

"Get back here!" Not willing to lose sight of them, Stan launched himself out of the window to follow them. Rick was right on his heels.

"Wh-what the h-h-h-hell is going on, Lee?"

"They're probably going to try to sacrifice her to their Queen. Apparently, that's a thing." Stan replied as they swiftly gained ground.

"What?!"

That was the day that Rick Sanchez learned exactly how weird Gravity Falls was.

And though he knew he shouldn't be as proud of it as he was, Stan also knew that was the day that Beth Sanchez learned how to throw a decent punch.

* * *

Stan sighed as he closed up the Shack. The only thing on his agenda was to get the portal up and running that night. He could admit that he'd been a bit more frustrated lately. It had been a little over ten years since all of this crap had started, yet he barely felt like he was closer to his goal. It was didn't help that it was winter, so his mood was even lower than usual.

Little tourists and too much time on his hands tended to do that.

Stan flinched as there was the sound of something big falling against his door. In his experience, a thud that large was not a good sign. Anxiety prickled at his nerves, and wasn't it strange that he was hoping that it was something local rather than someone from his volatile past.

He made sure to grab a bat on his way, since you could never be too cautious.

Stan blinked in surprise as he opened the door. It was someone from his past, but it was someone who was more than welcomed.

And totally wasted.

"Really, Rick?" Stan lowered the bat and threw his friend a disgruntled look. "I thought you didn't go at the liquor this hard anymore."

Rick tripped over the entrance, weaving on his feet. He gave a bleary look around the room, and Stan felt the prickling of worry begin to steal over him. He really hadn't seen Rick like this since before Columbia, and it couldn't be good news.

"Rick, what's wrong?" He tossed the bat behind his chair and reached out to help his friend. "Is there something you need?"

Rick looked him in the eye and Stan flinched a bit at how lucid he seemed despite the obvious amount of alcohol he'd consumed. "You." He said.

"Wha-?" Stan had barely registered the word before he found himself pressed against the wall, Rick's lips on his. There was a fire and desperation to the other man as he wrapped himself around him, and it was as familiar to Stan as the lips. For a moment, Stan lost himself to the kiss. It'd been a while since he'd done this and just for a second, he forgot.

Then reality set back in.

"Rick." Stan hissed as their lips finally parted. "We can't do this." He started to gently push Rick away.

"Wha – Why the h-h-h-hell not?" Rick blinked at him, face scrunching up in confusion.

"You're married!" Stan replied. He may have been a lot of things, a liar, a conman, and a thief, but he was not going to be a homewrecker. And he was not going to do this to Rick, not when he'd gotten out, not when he –

"Not anymore."

It was Stan's turn to blink.

Rick wouldn't quite look him in the eye. "There's – there's things that I've been up to – c-c-c-can't get them invol-involved. She w-w-w-w-was always so pissed at me – it wasn't w-working. And then, the-there's – " At this, he returned his gaze to Stan and he wasn't quite sure what to make of the look in his eye. "Just – "

Stan didn't need any more words. Before Rick could say anything more, he drew him into his arms, wrapping him up into a tight hug. He wasn't quite sure what exactly was going on in Rick's life other than a divorce, but it was clear that Rick was hurting. If there was one thing that Stan couldn't stand, it was the people he cared about hurting.

Rick returned the gesture, clutching at Stan like a life preserver in a stormy sea. "Please, Lee." He softly said.

That's all Stan needed to hear.

Afterwards, Stan laid there and pretended to fall asleep. If his past experience told him anything, Rick would only reveal how he really felt when no one was watching. And even then, he'd use a language he didn't think Stan knew.

He heard the rustling of sheets as Rick turned towards him. He could practically feel the eyes boring into him, but he continued to feign sleep.

"Ah… Realmente me c-c-cagué. N-ninguno de ustedes d-debe estar cerca de mí. Tengo que pro-protegerte. Pero…" Stan was so concerned at Rick's words that he almost started at the gentle touch of Rick running his fingers through his hair. "Lee, cómo p-p-puedo dejarte? D-de n-nuevo?"

Okay. That was it.

Stan stirred a bit, as if just rousing. "Rick?" He asked, making his voice sound sleepy.

The hand immediately withdrew and he could practically feel the other man drawing all of his emotions back along with it.

Stan shifted until he was facing him and looked up at him with droopy eyes that weren't totally fake.

"Gotta admit, I'm not quite sure what's going on with you." He ignored the small grunt he got as a response. "But just so you know, if you're ever in trouble or something, you're always welcome here."

Rick snorted for real this time and scooched down to look Stan in the eye. "Oh, r-r-really? N-no questions asked?" His tone was sarcastic, but he could tell the question was genuine.

It was Stan's turn to snort. "Like I ever asked you about half the stuff you got into back in the day."

Rick cracked a grin at that. "This isn't quite like back in the day, Lee." He didn't even stutter over any of the words.

"So what? You're still Rick, and you're welcome here." Stan turned away from him at that, getting way too close to his own emotions.

Rick snickered and threw an arm around Stan's waist. "Wha-whatever y-you say."

"Damn right I do." Stan grumbled as they finally drifted off to sleep.

Stan was slightly surprised when Rick was still there in the morning, but he made up some Stancakes and waved him off as he left.

Some part of him, actual a huge part if he was being honest, really hoped that Rick would take up his offer.

Even after he discovered that Rick had raided all of his liquor before he left.

* * *

As seemed to be one of the few constants in their relationship, Stan saw Rick on and off as the years ran their courses. Sometimes Rick would show up for a booty call – and the only time that Stan ever worried about that was one time, after several years absent, that Rick had whispered afterward, in Spanish of course, that it had been ages since he'd done a human. Other times, Rick seemed to be hiding out from someone or something, or even just wanted Stan's company.

It didn't take much for Stan to figure out that at some point, Rick had managed to make that portal of his own. Stan had been half tempted to steal it, it was only a gun after all, but Rick had shut that down pretty quickly.

"You c-c-c-can't just trav-travel around w-w-willy-nilly, Lee." Rick had said, using his height to hold the portal gun out of his reach as Stan made a grab for it. "F-first, you sh-should aaaaaalways know your dimension of o-o-origin."

"Got it. Now gimmee." The tussle that had resulted had ended in other activities rather than Stan getting the gun.

Still, Stan had accepted it. The multiverse was a huge place and with his luck, there was no way he'd manage to stumble upon his brother anyways. The portal downstairs was his best bet as it looked like it could track down items and people that had gone through it and then open a portal wherever Ford was.

Imagine his surprise when he learned Rick had been looking for Ford.

"I've met a c-c-c-couple F-Ford Pines over the years. Ha-haven't this uni-universe's though." Rick said one day out of the blue. "And i-i-i-it looks like I wa-was right."

Stan nearly ripped apart the taxidermy he'd been sewing together. "Wha?" His jaw dropped a bit as he looked over at his friend.

"Y-yup." Rick took a long drag from his flask. "H-h-he's a d-dick wh-who doesn't deserve you."

That wasn't even the least of Stan's concerns. "You've met Ford?" His brain was still stuck on that.

If some Fords were alive and well in the multiverse, then surely his own Poindexter could survive.

"Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaah." Rick dragged the word out, wrinkling his nose like a skunk had just farted in his direction. "W-we don't g-get along." He paused. "Any version of us."

But Stan still wasn't paying attention to that. "He's alive."

Rick grunted. "W-well, some versions any-anyway. R-raises the ch-chances of your Ford, I guess." He finally seemed to take note of Stan's mood. His brow furrowed. "H-h-hey, what's up w-w-with you? Y-y-you look – "

In all seriousness, Rick really should have seen the kiss coming.

After all, it was some of the best news Stan had had in years.

* * *

"You n-n-need a v-vacation, Lee." Rick said without preamble. He had a habit of doing that, Stan had noticed.

Stan rolled his eyes. "I've got the Shack to take care of." He ignored the scientist in favor of putting more merchandise on the shelves.

"Y-you're n-n-not gonna get tourists until s-summer wh-which isn't for a m-month." Rick protested.

Stan knew that, but he had to stay and work on the portal. He already skipped on working on it when Rick was here or he had some other… business ventures to take care of. He couldn't afford to take the days off that a vacation would require.

Luckily, he had another useful excuse up his sleeve.

"I'm not gonna waste money on other people's tourist traps, Rick." Stan countered. It was true after all. His love of money and keeping it wasn't just for show. He wasn't going to waste it on something like a vacation of all things.

Rick threw him a wicked grin, twirling his portal gun in nimble fingers. "Lee, Lee, Lee, Lee." He said. "Wh-who s-said y-y-you'd be paying for a-anything? O-or going t-to a tourist trap?"

Stan had a bad feeling about this.

But just like back in the day, he didn't know if he could resist Rick when he was like this.

Long story short: he couldn't.

Looking back on the weekend, Stan would always wonder if he – the stupid one of the Pines twins – had actually travelled across the dimensions and the multiverse, stopping by what appeared to be Ultra Space Vegas and some sort of Space Arcade, or if the entire weekend had just been some big acid trip from something Rick slipped him.

He wondered if he should be worried that both were equally plausible.

Either way, it was some of the most fun he had had since scaring kids on both Summerween and Halloween.

* * *

Stan would admit that he had been a little anxious about Rick and Soos meeting. After all, Rick was… well, Rick, and Soos was a sweet, innocent kid. He may have hired the boy on a whim but he was easily the best employee he'd ever had.

Which was saying a lot since the kid was only twelve.

Plus, Soos, for some strange reason, seemed to idolize him and also, for some strange reason, Stan didn't want to disappoint the kid with any details of his past that were worse than conning the crap out of suckers. Or have Rick not like the boy because despite his best efforts, his Rick was not really the best with kids.

Turns out that that wasn't what he should have been worried about.

"So you've known Mr. Pines how long?" Soos's chipper voice piped up as he stared up at Rick with those sparkly eyes of his. The two of them were on break for lunch, so it was the first chance that Soos had to really talk to the scientist.

Rick didn't look up from where he was fiddling with one of his inventions at the table in the TV room. He'd made the mistake of working on this kind of stuff in the kitchen only once. "Yep. I-i-i-it's been y-y-years."

"What sort of stuff have you guys done?" Soos innocently asked, and it immediately put Stan on his guard. After all, this was way too good of an opportunity for the scientist to pass up.

A sly grin crossed Rick's face as he turned to look at Soos for the first time. "Oh, all sorts of st-stuff!" He gleefully said. "Why it would t-t-t-take hours just to even g-get into half of the shi- "

"Shiitake mushrooms!" Stan quickly yelled over him from where he was just finishing a sandwich for Soos. At the stares he received as he entered the room, Soos's confused but surprised one and Rick's wicked one, he laughed nervously. "Rick and I once happened upon a patch and it was crazy, let me tell ya!" He continued to laugh until it finally, awkwardly petered out.

"That's so cool, Mr. Pines!" Soos said, brightening. "Where'd you find them? I thought those mushrooms were only found in East Asian countries."

Dang. How'd the kid know that?

"Never you mind. Here's your sandwich." Stan quickly handed Soos his food and nudged him out while handing him some change. "Go get a treat from the machine, why don't you?"

Soos's eyes sparkled at the offering, because usually Stan would insist that he use his own money for such things. "Thanks, Mr. Pines!" He was practically skipping as he went out the door.

Rick was already snickering when Stan whirled around to him. "You can't swear in front of kids, Rick!" Stan hissed as he slammed Rick's sandwich in front of him. He ignored the look of pure glee on the other man's face as he flopped down to eat his own lunch.

"Wh-what's the big deal? I swore i-i-i-in front of Beth l-loads of times." Rick protested, picking up his sandwich with an expression that Stan was sure was a constant to all scientists. That look that said that they'd rather get back to work but they'd humor you by actually taking in an edible substance.

"Yeah. But Beth was your kid, so you could do that!"

"I thought you d-didn't c-c-care if kids learn-learned to swear." Rick rolled his eyes at him. "O-or is it j-j-just be-because it's _your_ k-kid?"

"I don't." Stan said firmly, ignoring Rick's question entirely. He was not the Soos's father, even if the kid's real one was horrible. "But do you have any idea of what that kid's abuelita would do to me if he came home swearing?" He shuddered at the thought. Normally the woman was as sweet as her grandson, but after it became clear that Soos would be working at the Shack regularly, she had come over to have a chat about him.

It was not an experience Stan wanted to repeat.

And almost immediately, Stan knew that he shouldn't have said anything. Because Rick was getting that mischievous, terrible look on his face that he knew all too well.

"Reeeeaaaaaally?" Rick grinned, his eyes going over towards the door. Stan followed the look to see Soos coming back into the room. "Well, hol-"

"Hot Belgian Waffles!" Stan covered, and Soos looked up again in confusion as Rick cackled.

This had been a mistake.

* * *

Though he didn't know it at the time, the last time he would see Rick before the summer that changed everything was when Rick was making some changes to his own life.

Rick had been fidgety ever since he had shown up, but he didn't really unwind until Soos and Wendy had left for the day and the two of them sat on the back porch sipping beers in the cool summer breeze.

"What's wrong, Rick?" Stan finally asked in order to break the awkward silence that had descended.

Rick didn't answer for a few minutes, uncharacteristically silent. "I-I think…" he hesitated. "I think I-I'm gonna g-go and see Beth."

Stan was grateful he didn't have any liquids in his mouth. That would've been a spew waiting to happen. He slowly lowered his beer and turned to face his friend.

Stan didn't know much about what Rick did. It was clear that the other man didn't want him involved, and so in order to keep up a place where Rick could return to, he didn't ask. He did know that Rick could hop dimensions. He knew that Rick fought against authority and got in trouble with authority just like he always had. He knew it was dangerous.

He also knew that even more than him, Rick wanted to keep his family out of it.

It was a sentiment that Stan could understand all too easily. Therefore, he respected it.

For Rick to be deciding this…

"She's got k-k-k-kids, you know?" Rick continued, not waiting for an answer. "I-I've seen 'em on the sly a few times, most-mostly when they were bab-babies so they w-w-wouldn't remember. But lately th-things have been…" He shrugged.

Stan thought about the portal in his basement that he secretly worked on most nights. He thought of a pair of twins that he had held as newborns but had only visited a couple times back when they were younger. He thought of Soos and Wendy, both kids that seemed to actually like him and look up to him.

He could understand how Rick felt.

"You should do it." Stan cracked a smile at Rick as he leaned back and took a sip of beer. Rick glanced over at him, that sober expression still on his face. "I mean it." Stan pushed. "If you feel you can do it, then do it. Get it while you can."

Rick studied him for a long moment before that familiar crazy smile crossed his face. He laughed as he threw his arm around Stan. "T-then I think I-I will." He gave the other an affectionate noogie. "Since you insist and all."

The two of them laughed and they switched to lighter, happier topics.

Both of them thought that maybe it was time to start reconnecting with what family they had.

* * *

Each memory slipped into place like puzzle pieces. Big ones, small ones, all of them forming a picture of Rick Sanchez, and more importantly, the checkered past between him and the crazy genius.

He hadn't remembered. Not all of his memories had recovered after having to erase them all, and Rick was, surprisingly given all they'd gone through, one of the things that hadn't come back. At least not right away.

But Stan remembered now.

Stan opened his eyes, not having realized that he'd closed them in the first place, and looked down at the boy who had triggered his recall. Apparently, this kid – Melvin, Marty, Morty? something like that – was one of those very grandkids that Rick had decided to return to. He was clutching onto the portal gun he'd apparently found, one that had been hidden away and left with a note that said to come to Stan if something went wrong and gave his coordinates.

Stan tried to ignore his brother who seemed to be having an existential crisis in the corner.

"Stanley and _Rick Sanchez_?" Ford muttered to himself. "I knew I'd met some Ricks that said that they _knew_ knew Stan, but to think that he and my brother in this dimension…" He groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"S-s-s-so w-w-will you help him?" Morty asked, having already explained the situation. His hopeful eyes peering up at him reminded him way too much of the niblings.

Stan thought about it for a moment, but really, the moment this boy walked in, before he had even remembered, his choice had been made.

He turned to Ford. "Hey, Sixer, mind if I borrow one of your space guns?"

Ford's head shot up and he stared at him, aghast. "You're actually going?!"

"Of course." Stan flippantly said, trying to ignore the way the kid lit up at his words.

"He's in one of the most secure and well-guarded prisons in this dimension."

"Eh, prison's prison, even if it's space prison." Stan shrugged, beginning to go around and gather things from the Shack that might be useful. "That's why I need one of your space guns. I'd bring one of my own, but a space gun seems more appropriate. Mabel'd want me to be careful."

"But – but – it's Rick Sanchez!" Ford spluttered, as he watched Stan pack things in a bag. "He probably deserves it."

Well, Stan didn't doubt that, but it wasn't going to stop him. "I deserved to go to prison, too. Didn't stop me from breaking out." He told him.

"H-h-he did it for us." Morty said softly, eye downcast. His words drew both of their attention. "Th-they were c-c-coming for us all, a-a-and he…"

If there was one thing Stan understood, it was sacrificing yourself for family. And Ford got it, too; Stan could see it in his twin's eyes. They both knew it all too well, especially after last summer.

He watched his brother's last arguments crumble to dust as Ford gave a resigned sigh.

"So will you give it to me?" Stan asked, holding out his hand as he slung his bag over his shoulders.

"No." Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford continued before he could. "Because I'm going to need it." Ford looked disgruntled but he grabbed his own emergency bag. "It's not like we have anything else to do before the kids get here in two weeks. And someone's going to have to watch out for you."

A smile crept over Stan's face. "Whoo! That's more like it! Though we're more likely going to have to rescue you if we get in trouble!" He thumped his twin on the back and threw him a wink at the other's annoyed expression. He turned towards the rest of the Shack. "Soos! Ford and I are going to go break Rick out of space jail. Only worry if you haven't heard from us in three days!"

"Mr. Rick is in trouble? You got it, Mr. Pines!" Soos appeared from around the corner to give them a thumb's up.

"S-s-so we-we're really g-g-gonna save him?" Morty asked, letting Ford take the portal gun to set the coordinates.

Stan grinned as he ruffled his hair, making the kid squawk in surprise. "Sure thing, kid. The kings of New Jersey are on the case."

Even when he wasn't there, Rick still made Stan's life crazy.

But, by God, Stan wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

AN: So here is my Stanchez Mini-Bang piece. I had ideas of younger Stanchez/through the years and breaking Ric out of prison, but this segue won out. I just thought it'd be interesting to see what sorts of memories Stan would have of Rick. This is one of the hardest things I've written but I'm happy with the result.


End file.
